


We Were Not Born to Drown

by cutflowersound



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Saves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes Dies, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Running Away, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Song Inspired, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Suicidal Thoughts, Tortured Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd Dies, kinda explicit but not really, sleep on the floor by the lumineers, suicidal thoughts are not really explicit, they save eachother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutflowersound/pseuds/cutflowersound
Summary: After Gerard tortures Stiles, he is left alone to deal with it.Derek saves him.Scratch that, they save eachother.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 23
Kudos: 920





	We Were Not Born to Drown

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the end of season 2. Stiles was tortured by Gerard, but it was worse than what we saw on the show. Erica and Boyd died there.
> 
> I listened to the song Sleep on the Floor by The Lumineers and got inspired enough to write it all in like two hours. I imagine that that's the song Stiles and Derek listen to. 
> 
> I've never posted anything before so if you have any comments, by all means go ahead.
> 
> As you see I'm never going to get over the first two seasons of Teen Wolf. I'm in denial about everything that happened later.
> 
> Also English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance about any mistakes. Please, feel free to point them out if you find any so that I can fix them. The same goes for any missing tags that you think need to be added.

It was getting to be too much.

He knew that he was walking on the edge, knew that all it would take was one small slip and he would be too far gone.

But no one noticed.

Scott was too busy with Allison, enjoying the fact that they had gotten back together recently, and Stiles?

He was forgotten by his best friend.

_Again._

And the thing was that the state of mind in which he was recently didn't even let him grief the fact that he probably had lost his best friend, his _brother_.

Isaac had taken his place, following Scott like a lost puppy. They were joined at the hip lately, Scott talking to him about all the things that Stiles was, apparently, too messed up to understand.

Lydia was occupied with Jackson, brought back from death. They were rebuilding their relationship after keeping so many secrets from each other.

The only ones who would understand were Erica and Boyd, because they were there.

And they were _gone_.

Stiles never understood how death worked. He got the concept, he suffered his mom's death when he was young and still needed her, her absence gaping like an open wound in his soul, his heart, his mind.

But thinking how someone could be there, and suddenly be _gone_ , was hard to wrap his head around. He couldn't understand why they were the ones who had to die. Why it wasn't him.

That would've been better, probably. Boyd would have Erica and Erica would have Boyd and both of them would have Derek.

But Stiles was alone.

After all, the ones who suffered death were the ones who were left alive.

And he didn't blame Derek for leaving him, for crawling into his burnt carcass of a house to hide from the world, because he was grieving.

Stiles was grieving, too, but he was also trying to forget the things that had happened in the basement.

The things that had led him to feel like he did at the moment.

Because Gerard messed him up. Buried his knife so deep in his arm that the nerve damage didn't allow him to feel his fingers; broke his leg so bad that the bone had wrecked the muscle surrounding it, making it ache constantly, a background pain that made him think that he might go insane. He was tortured, electricity ran through his body twisting with his blood, his veins, his insides. Scars crisscrossed his back, painting a fucked up picture in his previously unmarked skin.

None of that really mattered, though.

Because every time he closed his eyes, he could see the life leaving Erica. He could hear Boyd's desperate, broken screams as he saw the love of his life die in front of him.

Could remember perfectly how the screams stopped, replaced by the sound of blood hitting the ground and trapped on someone's throat.

Derek was the one who found him, tucked in a corner with his wounded arm cradled to his chest and his broken leg oozing blood in front of him. He couldn't even bend it.

He remembers perfectly the broken sound that left Derek's throat when he saw the bodies of his two betas lying there, unmoving and surrounded by blood, on the ground.

The trip to the hospital was just flashes of moments in his eyes. He remembers the cold air in his face as he left the basement for the first time in three days, remembers his father's voice somewhere, screaming his name and telling him that he was _there_ , that he wasn't leaving. The white shine of the lights from the ambulance against his eyelids, the feeling that he was moving fast, lying on a gurney as people screamed around him, calling for two units of blood.

Then it was quiet, until he woke up with his father sitting next to him, his face more wrinkled than he remembered and deep, purple bruises under his eyes. He looked at Stiles with a mixture between disappointment and sadness, as if he couldn't recognize the son he had raised.

He had asked then, in a broken voice, "Stiles, why didn't you tell me about _werewolves_?"

And Stiles had cried, sobbed against his father's chest, his muscles constricting in pain at the feeling of his broken ribs moving with every broken sound that left his mouth.

His father had hugged him, shushed him when he called for Erica and Boyd, praying that it had all been a bad dream, that they were alive, that he wasn't the last one standing.

The first days his father had stayed with him, at the hospital, only leaving to get some clothes and coffee.

But work was waiting, and his father had responsibilities, and Stiles just _knew_ that he had a hard time looking at him, at his broken son that had lied so much that his lies were intertwined with reality in a way that he would never be able to decipher. And so he started leaving every night, to go to sleep. And then during the day, to go to work. And then he had taken extra shifts, wanting to spend as little time as possible with the son that had betrayed him so many times.

Stiles had nightmares that made him wake up screaming his lungs out, the pain on his ribs making it feel like he was back there. During one of those Derek first showed up.

He had stood next to his bed, his hands hovering over the sobbing form of Stiles for a few seconds, not knowing what to do as he cried for the two people that they both had lost. It didn't take him long to decide what to do, to climb on the bed and cradle Stiles to his chest as they both cried, as they both broke down in each other's arms.

They didn't talk about it the next day, or the one that followed.

And Stiles would've thought that it was a dream, if it wasn't for the fact that every time he had nightmares after that the alpha showed up and held his hand, looking at him with a broken expression that probably mirrored the one on his own face.

Physical therapy was a nightmare. His leg refused to cooperate and his hand was never going to regain feeling. He usually screamed and cried, and his dad stopped being there as it happened. It was too much for him.

 _Stiles_ was too much for him, he knew.

Scott showed up all of three times as he was in the hospital, he spent two of them talking about how he had gotten back together with Allison and one in complete silence.

He went home and started school again and he had to use crutches, and had to take notes on his laptop because he couldn't hold a pencil, and people talked about him all the time.

And it was getting to be too much.

Stiles had just arrived at his house after school, the pain on his leg having increased enough to not be just background pain anymore. He had spent lunch alone, sitting by himself at a table, and just wanted to hug his dad for a few minutes.

His dad, who wasn't home; who was never home anymore because he couldn't stand to look at his son's face anymore.

He climbed the stairs, something that previously had been done without a second thought, now took him minutes. At his bedroom, Stiles sighed heavily and sat at the edge of his bed. He rubbed his face, and drowned the sob that left his mouth with his hand, closing his eyes tightly.

He couldn't do this anymore.

The sound of his window opening brought him back to the present, but he didn't open his eyes or look up.

Only one person visited him, nowadays.

He felt the mattress dip beside him when another body sat there. He looked to the side without raising his head, and found Derek sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his head hanging low between his shoulders.

Five minutes passed in complete silence.

"I'm leaving."

The words hit Stiles as if they were bullets, his breath catching on his throat, a broken sound was all he managed to get out.

"No." It wasn't an order, wasn't him asking.

It was just him, closing his eyes, shaking his head in a defeated motion. It was him, trying to deny to himself the fact that the only person that hadn't left him yet was going to.

"You can't just-" Stiles's breath catches in his throat. "Please don't leave-"

_Please don't leave me._

"Come with me."

"What?"

Stiles looks at Derek straight in the eyes, tries to see if maybe he heard wrong, because Derek can't be offering him to run away with him. He must've heard wrong.

"Come with me."

"Derek, are you- _Derek_."

"This town is killing you." The alpha looks at him straight in the eyes. They are red rimmed. "It's killing me."

"So we just run away?" His voice is way too hopeful to convey the message that he was trying to get across. He was aiming to sound scandalized, like what Derek was offering was wrong.

His blood runs through his veins faster than it had in a while, his heartbeat picks up its pace, hopeful. Oh, so hopeful.

"We run away." Derek answers. There's hope in his eyes, too. He is pleading Stiles, pleading with his gaze for him to go with him. "If we don't leave now- if we don't do it now that we are still sane, that you are still alive- _Stiles_." He manages to say his name like a prayer. "Stiles, we weren't born to _die_ in this fucking town."

Derek is the first one, the only one, that didn't move on without him. He stayed behind, slowed his pace to match the one that his broken leg marked, worked as a human crutch when Stiles needed.

"Okay."

Stiles says, and maybe it shouldn't be that easy.

But it is.

He gets up, grimaces at the feeling of his leg taking his weight again after a long time, and takes a duffel bag from his closet.

"Help me." Stiles throws it on top of his bed, and looks at Derek expectantly.

There's only movement after that. He throws haphazardly his clothes towards his bed. Two changes of clothes would be enough, plus the one he had on at the moment. Enough underwear for a week, and extra pair of shoes. Toothbrush and toothpaste and deodorant.

He doesn't take his phone charger.

He doesn't take his phone. Or his laptop.

Derek helps him, folds his clothes as best as he can while keeping the desperate pace that Stiles is setting. He moves as if their minutes are counted, as if they had to leave _right now_ , or they wouldn't be able to leave at all.

Stiles moves to close his bag, and something red lands on top of his hands before he does.

His red hoodie.

Derek is looking at him with a bitter smile once he looks up, Stiles closes his eyes before breathing in deeply.

He puts the hoodie on and finishes closing the bag.

Derek sits at the desk and takes a piece of paper and a pen. He looks at Stiles. "Tell me what to write to your dad."

Stiles nods once, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

"Dad, I'm drowning. I can't stay here anymore. I'm alone. You moved on, Scott moved on, life moved on, but I didn't. I close my eyes and all I see is Erica, all I hear is Boyd, all I feel is my body being beaten and broken over and over again." He clears his throat, tries to convince himself that Derek won't judge him. "I was going to end it, dad. I was going to end what Gerard started and couldn't do. I was going to follow Erica and Boyd because- because I can't keep doing this. But Derek-" He takes a deep breath, opens his eyes and looks straight at where the alpha is writing. "I'm leaving with him. He's saving me, dad, from myself, from this town. I don't know if we'll be back, but I know that I will be fine. _We_ will be fine. I love you, dad. Take care."

Derek looks at him after he is done. He folds the letter with care, writes "Dad." on top, and leaves it on his pillow.

It's a moment of quiet, and then movement again. Stiles walks down the stairs as fast as his messed up leg would let him, crutches forgotten at the side of the bed.

Derek is ahead of him, Stiles tries to keep up as best as he can. He steps outside after Derek, who doesn't slow down as he jogs to the Camaro. Stiles closes the door behind him, and limps towards the car hoisting up the bag on his shoulder.

He doesn't spare a look to the house as he gets inside the vehicle.

And as they drive away, he feels the tension leave his shoulders.

~

They drive in silence until they pass the sign which informs them that they are leaving Beacon Hills.

Stiles puts on the radio, and the melody of a bittersweet song surrounds them as they drive into the night.

It's perfect, and for the first time, Stiles _breathes_.

~

They change the Camaro for a jeep. It's almost poetic. It is red instead of baby blue, newer, and Derek drives instead of Stiles.

When they cross to the next state, the alpha grabs his hand. He clings to it tightly, knows the werewolf can take it. Derek gives him a small smile, and a nervous laugh makes its way up his throat.

It's the first time he's laughed since it happened.

He doesn't let go of Derek's hand until they stop for gas three hours later.

~

They get a cottage with wooden walls an hour away from the city. They are surrounded by woods, it has big windows and is always bright with natural light. When there's sun, a warm yellow color wraps around everything.

The kitchen is open, with an island where Stiles likes to cook and lots of shelves to put spices and organic products (because apparently, that's a thing they _do_ now, buying organic stuff) and their plates and cups.

There's only one couch, one which is made for three people but is shared by only the two of them when they lay there and watch movies. They go on hikes, Derek starts working from home and Stiles finishes school by studying online.

There's also only one room, with one bed which is shared, too. It seems like they share everything, these days. Clothes are borrowed constantly, shoes and pijamas too; only underwear seems to be personal between them.

And at night, when they lie in bed together, Stiles rests his head on Derek's chest, and he wraps his arms around him and the alpha kisses the top of his head before falling asleep.

They aren't _just_ friends anymore, not after Derek rescued him from that stupid town ("Stiles, you rescued me as much as I rescued you." he always says) and not after they've literally picked each other's pieces when they break down because the ghosts from the past go back to haunt them, but they haven't moved to anything romantic yet.

It is unavoidable, they both know. They don't want to do anything to stop it from happening, either. But at the moment, they both are content knowing that they _could_ be more, that they _will_ be more the moment they decide to.

But they have all the time in the world for that.

~

Not everything is good. Sometimes Derek comes back from his morning jog and finds Stiles sitting in the couch with the TV off, his elbows resting on his knees and his head lying between his shoulders with eyes that are seeing something too far away from him to visualize.

He sits next to him, wrap an arm around the other boy, and holds on tightly when he turns around and buries his face on his neck, clinging to his sweaty shirt because he just doesn't care and he just wants him close.

At night, when Stiles wakes up screaming the name of the betas he lost, Derek sits behind him and puts him between his legs and rests his chin on his shoulder, putting his back flush against his chest, covering the scars with his body and praying for them to go away; for the reminder to go away.

It never does.

~

Derek gets quiet sometimes. He does everything with a detached expression, as if he was just going through the motions of the day without really thinking. Stiles lets him be, knows he doesn't want to be crowded when that happens, but gives him lingering touches every time he passes beside him.

Reminding him that he's _there_ , that they are together, that they are safe.

After the bad days pass, though, the good ones make up for them.

They laugh, and read to each other, and hug each other because there's not such thing as personal space between them anymore. Derek asks Stiles for help when he does the crossword on the newspaper, and Stiles feels his heart stutter every time he catches sight of the alpha wearing black rimmed _glasses_.

They cook together and bake cookies and cake for them to enjoy as much as they enjoy their new lives.

They never regret leaving Beacon Hills.

~

Stiles is mixing the batter for a cake. It's Derek's favorite, filled with chocolate chips and fluffy and _sweet_. It didn't take him long to figure out the alpha's sweet tooth, and he loves spoiling him, so there's always something that meets his requirements in the kitchen.

Derek is reading, his glasses rest low on his nose and there's two little lines of concentration between his eyebrows.

A melody starts playing on the radio, the same one that played all those months ago as they left the city that was sucking the life out of them with every passing moment.

Derek looks up, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. There's pain in his gaze, and love when it rests on the man that accompanied him on that journey. Stiles leaves the bowl on the table and looks at the alpha, his eyes get glossy with tears and his chest fills with warmth.

He steps towards Derek and extends his hand, the one that never got back the feeling, and offers it to the man who saved him.

The werewolf looks wrecked, but as the tempo starts getting faster he takes the offered hand and stands up, wrapping the man on his arms as they start dancing.

It doesn't take them long before Derek twirls Stiles around, an startled laugh leaves the man's chest as he looks up at the alpha. His eyes are twinkling with joy, cheeks rosy and lips full.

And Derek crosses the barrier, and ducks down to kiss Stiles, and he kisses him back and they share that moment between them and the song that marked the start of their lives together.

When they come up for breath, a loud, _genuine_ laugh leaves Stiles, and Derek's chest hurts from just looking at him because he is beautiful and his. The darkness that lingered around them seems to melt away for the moment.

The song keeps going, their foreheads pressed together.

This is what living feels like.

~

At night Derek throws Stiles his pajama before he even looks for it. They wash their teeth next to each other and the alpha kisses the human's cheek after he is done. He looks at him through the mirror and smiles, and Derek smiles back, and they feel lucky for the first time.

Lucky for having each other, for finding this beautiful cottage in the middle of the woods where they started _living_ for what felt like the first time, for having someone to share memories with about the people that are no longer with them.

They get in bed, tangled in each other as always, and Derek kisses the top of his head before drifting to sleep.

Stiles remembers the hope he felt when Derek told him to run away with him, remembers how he was the only light when everything was darkness.

He wants to marry this man, wants to spend the rest of his life with him, someone who understands him and who accepts him with everything that has happened, who waited for him when everyone else left.

He wants to grow old with him, dancing in the kitchen and cooking together and holding each other at night.

And for the first time, he feels like his life is okay.

They have all the time in the world.


End file.
